from here

I was in a huge room like the ones you see classified as 'Parisian', though now I know most aren't like those - spacious, painted white, French windows with deep coloured curtains, carpets on wooden floor, and chairs here and there... There was a loud rumbling noise, like an earthquake, and I think a chunk of the roof broke off. We went to investigate, everyone from the various parts of the house came upstairs. You were among them. Others started wandering off, losing interest. You stayed behind. So I stayed behind. It's been so long, I said. It's been too long, you said. Things we want to say, but cannot, will not, because... we are scared? hopeful? Only our faces show the hundreds of mixed feelings inside, that we cannot even begin to explain (at least, it was for me).